Continuum
by mutt712
Summary: Draco's POV. A series of events where Draco realizes there's only person whom he's comfortable letting in - Hermione Granger. One-shot! D/Hr


**Just trying something different. Plus I had these scenes in my head and nowhere to fit them in my normal stories!**

**Nothing belongs to me, it all belongs to the wonderful J.K Rowling. Have fun and remember to review please~**

* * *

Draco Malfoy couldn't exactly pinpoint the exact time when he fell in love. When Zabini asked him this question, he avoided it like the plague and took long drags on his cigar.

He was lost as to _when_ but he was always sure of whom. It was so hard not to love her. He didn't know any other way of being around her. It was almost painful.

The first time they exchanged a proper conversation was at Zabini's birthday bash. He'd rented out a bar and the party was in full swing. After politely declining three strippers and two hookers, Draco decided he needed some air.

He stood outside the bar, off to the sidewalk and rummaged his pockets for his pack of smokes. He pulled out his pack of Dunhill, and positioned a stick between his lips while he shook around his coat for his lighter.

To his surprise, a shiny metallic object came his way and he almost jerked back violently. Taking a moment to focus, he noticed it was Zippo lighter, flame already in place. It surprised him that there was someone standing so close to him without him even noticing. What surprised him even more was that that someone was Hermione Granger.

"Didn't think this was your crowd," he commented, inching forward to let the tip of his cigarette ignite.

The air crackled and the luxurious smell of burning tobacco filled the space around them. Granger was looking very pretty tonight, he decided. She had her hair down, about half way down her back, but it was slick with waves more so than curls.

She half smiled at his statement and took a drag of her cigarette. "It isn't."

"Then why are you here?"

She didn't answer him right away. She fiddled with her beaded clutch, putting away her Zippo. Draco was sure he heard loud clanking inside there and he wondered what in the hell she deposited in that bag.

"Ginny's idea of a girl's night out." She blew smoke elegantly around her small frame. She didn't breathe it out from her nose.

"I see."

"_You,_ on the other hand, look like you belong here."

"Don't be testy, Granger."

She laughed and at that moment, it shocked him. He never knew she was capable to do that around him. There was a shout and a scream. Granger sighed before stamping out her cigarette. "That's Ginny. The last I left her, she and Blaise were really going at it. I better break them up before Ginny's wedding get's cancelled."

Draco raised his eyebrows but said nothing. She was almost inside the bar when she back-tracked and pressed something hard and cold into his palm.

"See you around, Malfoy."

He didn't reply. His skin was tingling where she touched it. He opened his palm to see her plain zippo, sitting snugly within his hand. He kept that Zippo in his bookshelf and spent the rest of his night looking at it.

* * *

The second time Draco spoke to Hermione was when he attended Potter's wedding. She was seated on the hood of a car, in the Weasley's dark shed. Draco had been wandering aimlessly around, bored to death by the ceremony.

His mother had forced him to attend. After the war, she had gotten close to Andromeda again, and by extension, she slowly included the Weasleys into her life.

She wasn't smoking but she had a glass of white wine in her hand.

"Fancy seeing you here," Draco said, stopping inching from where her feet dangled.

She took a big gulp. She was upset. Her warm eyes were troubled, her elegant chignon a little loose, with curls framing her face. "He fucking cheated on me."

"Potter?"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped.

"Whatever the fuck that's got your knickers in a bunch – leave me out of it," Draco replied, turning on his heel to leave the shed. He didn't need to take this. If she wanted a listening ear, sure. She didn't need to be a bitch about it.

"Wait – don't go." She sounded sorry. "I – I'm just upset. I'm sorry." She sounded pathetic now.

Draco walked back to her, leaning gracefully on the car's front bumper. He didn't say anything but pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He offered her a stick but she declined.

She took another long drink before speaking again. "Right now as we speak, Ron is shagging Lavender fucking Brown. In Fred and George's old bedroom."

He nodded.

"Do you want to know how I knew?" Her voice was scathing. She didn't wait for his response. "I was looking for him before Ginny threw the bouquet. To tell him come watch as I caught it. But what do I stumble upon? My fucking boyfriend banging a girl on an antique dresser."

"Weasleys own antiques?" He didn't mean to sound condescending. He was genuinely surprised.

"_Why_ are you always such a fucking asshole, Draco?"

That was the first time she'd called him by name. It sounded exquisite. The rest of the contents didn't really matter to him, really.

"Why do you have to be such a – a _prick_? Why can't you just be nice? I thought you –"

"_You thought_. I can be a different person from who cooked me up to be inside your head."

"Obviously."

They were silent. Draco could hear her ragged breathing and her quiet sobs. He moved his free hand to squeeze her cold one that was resting on the hood of the car. "He doesn't deserve you. I've always thought that you were too fascinating for his simple mind."

She was quiet for a few seconds. Then, she inched closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. He could feel her tears soaking his coat already. "He broke my heart."

"And it hurts."

"It really hurts, Draco."

She cried some more and Draco wanted to bash Weasley's skull in. But he was too preoccupied with the chills that were running down his spine due to her using his first name.

Later, once he was home, he would recall her dress as being the same periwinkle blue it was during their Yule Ball. He also never dry-cleaned that particular suit to his mother's annoyance. He had charmed the left shoulder of his suit to smell exactly the way it did when he returned home. It smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.

* * *

He didn't know exactly how it happened, but he found himself outside her apartment, in a drunken stupor.

She had let him in without a word, her face puzzled and worried. She instructed him to sit on her couch while she made him a strong coffee and fetched bottled water from her kitchen.

"Everyone's been looking for you." Her voice was cautious, afraid almost.

"Don't I fucking know it."

"You…you should let your mother know you're okay…she's at the Burrow, with Molly."

He said nothing. He twisted the cap off the bottle she had handed him and took a sip of the refreshing cold water.

"I didn't have sex with any of the hookers tonight."

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. Good, at least someone should feel as angry as he felt. "Good on you, then," she commented dryly.

"And it's because of _you_," he accused boldly. His mind was failing him. He'd temporarily forgotten that she was the Brightest Witch of her Age. She was sidekick to nobody and could curse him into oblivion if she chose so.

"_Excuse me_?_"_

"I couldn't. I just couldn't because I kept thinking of how wrong it was to do that when I'm in love with you."

She was quiet. He wasn't expecting this. He wanted her to be riled up, to argue with him, to help him siphon off some of his anger.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Sorry I can't get laid?"

She flushed, but her voice was steady. "I'm sorry about your father."

"You're sorry Lucius died?" Draco laughed maniacally. This was hilarious. "Right."

She frowned at him. "I don't like his ways, but that doesn't mean I wanted him dead."

"Well, I did. I wanted him to die, and now that he's gone I feel like a fucking useless son who spent his time forever wishing his father was dead."

He wasn't prepared for what she did next, but it felt good. Her lips were soft against his. It was brief, but it made him close his eyes off to the world. She pulled him against her, allowing him to lean against her small frame, soft chest.

He inched his hand under her tank top, spreading his palm against her warm skin. He felt her fingers scrape through his scalp, relaxing him. His tears flowed freely, and he was glad she couldn't see them. She could feel them, of course – he was soaking up her clothing.

When he woke up the next morning, she was gone. He found a fresh change of clothes beside him, with a tightly corked vial of Pepper-Up potion. His heart sank. And then he caught a neatly folded up note. He felt relief flooding through him.

She had to go into the office for a while. She'll be back soon, he could stay and wait. She'll attend the service with him if he wanted.

Draco knew that this was the beginning of something very complicated. But he would also come to realize inthe years to come how Hermione never failed to take care of him.

* * *

They were having another one of their fights. Her eyes were blazing. Her fists were clenched by her side and her cheeks were red.

"When were you planning to tell me?" Her voice was icy and sharp. He knew better than to lie.

"The day before I left."

"How in the hell does that make sense to you, Draco?" She all but screamed. They had been together for almost six months. He also knew better than to answer her rhetoric questions. But he did anyway.

"Because you wouldn't act like a raving lunatic and try to stop me!"

"WELL EXCUSE ME IF I DON'T WANT YOU DEAD IN A DITCH!"

"I HAVE TO GO ON THIS MISSION!"

"_NO,_ YOU'RE JUST BEING IMPOSSIBLE –"

"AND YOU'RE BEING FUCKING STUBBORN!"

They were getting nowhere with this fight. The door to his study cracked open and Potter peered in cautiously. "Guys, everyone can hear you. Just – um – just thought you should know."

"Right," Draco said, breathing heavily.

"Not now, Harry," Hermione said dangerously. "And I know you assigned Draco this mission so you better leave before I start on you."

Potter was gone faster than when a person Apparated.

They continued to stare at each other, both not willing to concede. Finally, Draco did. He always did when it came to her. She mattered too much. Much more than his ego anyways.

"I have to do this," he said gently. He covered the space between them, pulling her into a hug. She felt snug between his arms even though she made no move to mould herself into his hug. "I have to," he repeated.

Her shoulders sagged and she caved. Her voice was wavering ."I don't want to lose you."

"You wont."

"I love you, Draco."

"I know, Granger."

"_Hermione_," she corrected in a small voice.

He sighed. "I love you, Hermione Granger. I'll come back in one piece, I promise." He swiped his thumb across her cheeks, wiping away any evidence of how he had hurt her in the past few minutes.

"If not?"

"If not you can finish off Potter," Draco said, smirking. She laughed half-heartedly.

"Can't you tell me what it's about?"

He shook his head no. Top secret, he said. He asked for goodbye sex. She shook her head no. It wasn't goodbye, she said.

When he came home three weeks later, he found faint fingernail marks etched into her cheeks. She looked so worried, but her face morphed into one of shock when she saw the two people he brought home with him unscathed.

He and Potter spent the last six months tracking down her parents in Australia, and they agreed that he could bring them home.

She thanked him well that night. Four times, he counted.

* * *

He dashed up the stairs two at a time. Ginny had Floo-ed him at work, demanding that he came home immediately. Hermione had locked herself in a room and was refusing to come out, she said.

He didn't even bother to politely excuse himself from a meeting he was having with Kjngsley. He ran to the nearest Apparation point and shouted for home.

"Hermione?" he called out carefully. He had sent Ginny home after a quick thanks. He was all nerves now, and he yanked uncomfortably at his work robes.

Their bedroom door opened. He found her sitting on the bed, her eyes puffy and swollen from crying. She was wearing a sun hat and she looked ridiculous. He preferred not to comment on it.

"What – what happened?"

"Do – do – you promise to love – me- no- matter- what?" She asked him in between hiccups.

"Not unless you've been with Weasley," he joked feebly, and then noticed her features crumpling. "But even then I'd love you to the moon and back, Granger," he added hastily. "Now what's wrong?"

Slowly, she removed her sun hat, and Draco almost gasped in surprise. He was shocked he didn't notice it before.

"I went for a haircut, and told the woman to chop it all off and she gave me a Posh Spice haircut and I look _ridiculous_, Draco. RIDICULOUS!"

His mind did a double take, wondering what the fuck a Posh Spice was. He decided to ask Ginny later.

She was entering her second trimester, and Draco suspected her hormonal changes had been making her feel hot and sweaty and therefore, propelled her into hacking off all her hair.

He shrugged out of his work robes. He unbuttoned his shirt underneath and began slipping out of his trousers.

"Draco? Are you listening to me?" She as angry now.

"I am, Granger," he promised. He crawled into bed with her and gently lay her down, kissing the side of her face. "You always look beautiful to me. _Always_."

"Draco, _please_ take me seriously…I wasn't insinuating sex! I really feel awful –_oooh_"

He had slipped a hand under her t-shirt and caught a pert nipple between his fingers. He rolled it expertly while he administered kisses along her neck.

"You're beautiful," he repeated, biting lightly.

She moaned beneath him, and Draco quickly shed his boxers. He meant what he said. She could wear a hair a million ways, have a dozen stretch marks and he'd still think she was beautiful.

Because she was. She was everything he could have hoped for and more. He threw her leg over his shoulder and proceeded to show her exactly how much he wanted her.

* * *

When they handed him that bundle, he was nervous. He didn't know how to hold it exactly, and he quickly sought out the eyes of his wife.

She smiled at him encouragingly. He could almost hear her soft chuckle in his ears.

He peered down into the soft bundle. Bright hazel eyes stared back at him. There was a dark tuft of hair, and he swelled with pride. His baby girl looked almost exactly like her mother! She even had her cute little button nose!

There was nobody in the hospital ward. Draco was sure that in a matter of hours, everyone would be flocking in.

He walked over slowly to Hermione's bedside. "Look," he whispered excitedly, "She's holding me!"

She laughed. "Daddy's number one fan are we?" she asked the curious little thing that looked at her when her voice sounded. "What a way to say thank you when Mummy spent six hours pushing you through a tiny hole."

Draco laughed loudly, and kissed Hermione soundly. "Don't," she protested. "I feel icky –"

He kissed her again. "Thank you."

It might have been two words, but she understood. He was thanking her for everything. He was thanking her for the past two years, for the wonderful year of marriage, for the crazy fights, the heated make-up sex, and now – a consequence of one of their make-up sessions – Layla Grace Malfoy.

She pressed her forehead against his and they both looked down at their newborn. It was almost as though he was living in an alternate universe.

* * *

"I just can't do it anymore! He's so full of himself! I need a fucking broomstick to shove –"

"Layla, don't be crude," Hermione chided from where she was seated.

"Mum, you don't understand –"

"Don't I? I married you father!"

"That's true," Draco agreed. He still wondered how Hermione put up with his ways even after twenty years of marriage. "You could take some tips from your mother."

"You both," Layla pointed at her mother and then her father, "are _not_ helping!"

Hermione sighed. She was forty-one this year. She looked nothing more than a day over thirty. Draco could see his hairline receding. He wondered how his wife maintained a healthy mane even though she had to put up with him.

"You need to _compromise_, Layla."

"I tried, but he just won't listen!"

"He wants a giant fancy wedding, where the entire world has to be present, with half of the Weasley clan there –"

Draco chuckled but quickly stopped when he spotted Hermione's glare. She proceeded to cajole their only daughter into a calmer state. Draco allowed her voice to wash over him, comforting him as always.

She had a knack for making things right. And ever since Hermione was in his life, everything was right. Blaise had asked him a million times over the years – how did he know _she_ was the one? How did he know he really loved her? And that he wouldn't crave the attention of another woman?

He didn't know how he knew. He just did. From the way she needed him as much as he needed her – he knew that ever since that day of Blaise's birthday bash, that no other woman infiltrated his mind.

He just knew that his love for Hermione existed on a continuum - it was constantly evolving, but always present. He didn't know when it began and he knew it wasn't going to stop either.

"…And if he still doesn't want to compromise –"

"Could I slap him in the face the way you did to Dad when you were thirteen?"

"You could," Hermione said thoughtfully, "but really, Layla, nobody loves me like how Daddy does. I could have flattened him and he'd still love me the same. Perhaps you should give yourself James some time to get there."

Layla rolled her eyes, but allowed an irritated smirk, not unlike Draco's. She wasn't going to argue. She knew all there was to know about love simply by watching her parents.


End file.
